On Thin Ice ☰ Dreamnotfound

☰ᴛᴡᴏ - ʙᴏᴀʀᴅɪɴɢ☰

Double-check everything. Make sure the rooms are clean. The guest room is ready, right? Do I have my charger? What about my backup? No that's silly, you don't need a backup charger there. But what about my headphones? My laptop would do me good... but would I look silly bringing so much stuff? How stupid would bringing my whole PC be? Pretty stupid... stupid... stupid... Does Patches have enough food? Is my note for my mom on the counter? It isn't... where did it go? Where did Patches go? PATCHES?

Dream stopped his pacing throughout the house and ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to calm the rapid thoughts piling in his mind one after another. He slowly walked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, finding Patches curled up at the foot of the bed with the sticky note he had written for when his mother came to house-sit and take care of Patches on the floor. It was crumpled, clearly having been subject to becoming her play-thing, and a tear went almost all the way through the middle.

Dream sighed, bending down to pick it up and examine the damage before deciding to just rewrite it. With an exasperated pat on Patches' head and a fleeting glance around his room (for what had to have been the fifth time in just the past half hour) to make sure he didn't forget anything, he walked back out to the kitchen where his bags awaited him.

He had one main luggage bag filled to the brim with clothes. Cara had said that he should plan for a two week stay, but his welcome could be extended once he arrived and was able to actually talk it through with George. Sweatshirts, t-shirts, shorts, jeans... He went through the items that were in that bag in his head and decided there were enough. London was colder than Florida—that was obvious—so he had a light jacket that hadn't seen the light of day in ages thrown into the bag as well. He then turned to his backpack which stored his laptop in an unzipped back pocket along, the charger, his headphones and earbuds, phone charger, wireless mouse, three books, a notepad, a case of writing utensils, and a bag of toiletries.

Cara told him not to worry about pillows or blankets as they had more than enough to provide for him, but he was welcome to bring any if he needed to. Dream declined and thanked her for having things ready for him because a fourth bag would have been more than a hassle. He looked at the third bag, smaller than the other two, that held another pair of tennis shoes and a pair of slip on shoes Cara had suggested to bring that didn't fit in his main luggage. Is three bags too much? I can always use the room to hold any items I'm bringing back on the way home of course. He shook his head and walked over to the kitchen island where the pad of small, colorful paper still laid. He patted his pockets and retrieved a black-inked pen from one of them, scribbling down a copy of the note he had written before. No, it's not too much, George won't mind; stop freaking out.

He smiled at the thought; George. For the first time ever, in around ten hours he would meet his best friend. Would he be happy? Of course he would, George has been talking about this day forever, even before they even started up their channels. How would he react, though? To seeing his face for the first time?

Dream signed the sticky note and pulled out his wallet, placing a fifty next to it. It may not have been much and he knew his mother wouldn't want to be paid to spend time watching over his house, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. She didn't have to come and pet-sit Patches for two weeks (or possibly longer). He giddily took a last look over his house, moving to turn off the living room lights before slipping on his shoes, slinging his backpack over his shoulders, and picking up the other two. With a quick check to make sure his wallet and phone were in his back pockets he opened the front door with a creak and stepped out, turning around to close the door after giving a small wave to his cat.

"See you soon, Patches!" He popped the keys in his front pocket with his ticket and piled his bags into his Uber he had called for.

As the trees flew by on the highway and the morning sun split different colors of all shades across the sky, Dream felt content. He looked at his phone's clock which had just turned 2:03 A.M. He had to take an early flight to account for the time difference, and if Dream was being honest, he probably got no more than an hours worth of sleep the night before.